“Now then, Phineas, are you ready to come with your dearest Mama?”, Arabella batted her eyes at a mortified mouse.
The mouse had just awoken before squeaking at the sight of her: Arabella’s canopy had been torn apart and tied tightly with other stolen fabrics. The makeshift rope was tightly secured onto the bed’s leg, the length circling the massive room around 20 times before the end was found strapped firmly around Arabella’s waist. She smiled at Phineas before gathering the rope and throwing them down her tower, cupping her left eye with her hand and clasping her hands at the success.
Phineas slowly stared up at her, almost fainting at what she had done to her dress.
It was obvious to know what Phineas was thinking, ‘It was mulberry silk! The most expensive type there is! There was pure gold embroidery! The dressmaker took months to find that exact midnight blue hue and you just- just-’.
He was a very well-bred mouse indeed. Princess Arabella Clare Dianna Montcroix beamed at her little mouse with the kingdom’s most revered smile.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Phineas”, Arabella bopped his little nose, “This dress was only 3 million Syli; Nothing compared to the one I wore last year for my birthday!”.
But you still tore it! Phineas motioned to the pieces of fabric lying on the floor.
But at this point, Arabella was no longer focused on the mouse and their one-sided conversation. She was pacing the room with passionate distaste.
“I genuinely can’t believe Father at this point! Honestly, I had already proven myself as a worthy princess: I had completed all my studies two years earlier than that standard, beaten my elder brothers in the past few sword-fighting championships, found more efficient ways to improve agriculture and owned and operated almost half of the kingdom’s parlours! Yet he still wishes to marry me off to the neighbouring Empire’s dunce of a Crown Prince!”, Arabella fell gracefully onto what was left of her bed.
She turned, pouting at Phineas, “I bet you can’t believe him either, my darling Phineas”.
Phineas squeaked his disagreement but Arabella had already picked him up and caressed his soft black and white fur, fixing the little blue bowtie on Phineas’ mini tuxedo.
“But worry not my little one”, Arabella proclaimed, rising from her bed, “Today, on my 17th birthday, the Montcroix Empire’s Eldest Imperial Princess: Arabella, shall escape her wretched fate and seek a future of her own, a future worthy of her glory!”.
The mouse watched, horror-stricken, as Princess Arabella grabbed her satchel and took out its contents, checking for any missed objects. Examining five bottles of water, ten packets of dried food, a few hundred Syli, five under and outer garments, a peacoat, trenchcoat and a duffel, toiletries, a tent, sleeping bag, her dagger, rope and . . .
“A parasol!”, Arabella exclaimed, “That’s what I felt was missing”, She glided across the black and white checkered floors once more and took a hold of her dearest lavender umbrella.
“And last but definitely not least”, Arabella giggled, “You, Phineas! I especially arranged for a miniature room to be made for you, my little one. Come along now, in you go”, she placed the luxurious gold room, complete with natural stone flooring, gilded gold furniture and chandeliers in front of him. The mouse didn’t have to be told twice before he elegantly rested on his new loveseat.
“Perfect”, Arabella smiled, “It’s time for us to go now”.
The wind blew, causing the sheets and the Princess’ dress to flutter. She pulled her pink hair into a bun whilst determinedly staring at the Imperial Family’s towering painting with her green eyes.
Ever since I was born, Arabella thought, I have been forced into the position of a kind, loving and feminine Princess. Of course, I played that role perfectly. But I was more than that, I was always more than anything this Empire could offer to a girl. Mother didn’t bother to raise me due to my gender and Father never acknowledged me until my last birthday when I reached marriageable age.
Arabella caressed the painting’s ornate frame, No. I shall never give in and become another one of this family’s pawns. I am not a chess piece; I am a player.
Closing her satchel, Arabella fixed the bag on her shoulder and stood on the windowsill. Trembling, she grabbed the rope tightly, preparing to hurdle downwards and catch onto a large metal water pipe. Her fingers slipped and her strength wavered, causing Arabella to fall. The sheets burned her palms and the princess winced in pain.
Phineas squeaked in worry and concern through the bag’s opening but Arabella returned a pained smile. Whilst graciously sliding down the eight-story-palace, she noticed the lights of the neighbouring kingdom’s turret shine brightly on a silhouette. The shadow seemed to be happily sliding down a secure wire.
What’s that? Perhaps it’s a robbery? How foolish of them though, the neighbouring empire is home to the 2nd prince whom I was betrothed to. Despite how much I detest anything about him, it’s still a country largely known for its strength and security. They’ll be hanged for this sooner or later, Arabella shrugged off and continued on with her own personal suffering.
At the very least, they can enjoy a lovely ride down their seven-storey turret rather than go through my torture, Arabella cried.
Out of impulse, the princess screamed, “YOU’RE ONE LUCKY THIEF”, across the plains jokingly. She never even imagined the possibility of her voice reaching the said thief, but it was common knowledge that Arabella underestimated her power . . . especially in the volume in her voice.
Across the mountains and past the trees, the neighbouring country of Montcroix, the Empire of Artois is currently losing their weak 2nd prince.
This place is so suffocating. Everyone keeps judging, mocking and insulting me. ‘Weak’ my foot, I could kill them all if I wanted to, Prince Anastasius vented, fixing a harness across his chest.
“C’mon Alfred, let’s go-”, the prince reached for his german shepherd, unknowingly slipping on the harness’ rope and throwing himself out of his own turret window.
The harness was not fully prepped, causing Anastasius to slide down the wire upside down. The ropes clutched at his stomach, causing immense abdominal pain. The prince stifled his scream, hugging his dog to his chest as a way to ease the pain. Unfortunately, that didn’t do much.
A certain, angelic voice managed to reach the ears of our runaway prince-
“YOU’RE ONE LUCKY THIEF”, it shrieked.
The prince stopped, Huh-thief? What thief?! Well, whoever he is, I’d like some of his luck. As you can see, I am in dire need of a fortunate event. I really hate my life. I can’t believe that they're marrying me off to Montcroix’s obnoxious eldest princess as a way to cast me aside.
Prince Anastasius von Elstar Artois sighed, At the very least, I’ll never have to meet her in my life. I mean, what type of noble princess would run off to the woods? She’d have to be a real nut head, he joked.